


second best

by hholocene



Category: Gossip Girl (TV 2007), The OC (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, anti chuck bass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hholocene/pseuds/hholocene
Summary: Ryan marries Taylor. Blair marries Chuck. Dan marries Serena. And Marissa gets engaged to Nate.  Things fall apart when their worlds collide.Fixing the Schwartz-verse endgames. Ryan/Marissa and Dan/Blair, with minor Nate/Serena.
Relationships: Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald/Serena van der Woodsen, Ryan Atwood/Marissa Cooper
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	second best

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is Ryan's POV, so heavy on Ryan/Marissa, light on Nate/Serena and squint and you'll see it with Dan/Blair. But they're coming!
> 
> Broad strokes of GG S6 taken as canon. Marissa lives but again borrowing the broad strokes of Ryan/Taylor in canon.

_I can see you starin', honey_

_Like he's just your understudy_

.

_Exile, Taylor Swift_

_. . ._

“Do you love her?” she asks him. The breeze blows and she runs her hands up her arms, looking so much like she did that night at Cotillion. He thinks twice about offering her his jacket. It doesn’t go amiss that they’re standing at the same spot - a strange quirk of fate that Taylor chose this venue for their engagement party. Even stranger that Marissa happened to be in town at all.

“I do,” he answers. He should be insulted at the question but after everything, all their history, maybe it’s warranted.

Her hands trail the wooden bench, soaking up distant memories from a forgotten era. Once upon a time, there had been another girl in white.

“I always thought it would be me,” she tells him. It’s said as a confessional not a plea. A final moment of honesty.

He tucks his hands into his pockets, and takes a step closer. There’s a sigh and then a plaintive smile.

“Me too,” he admits.

She laughs and smiles back in answer. Her hand reaches for his shirt collar and smoothes it - an old habit. 

“Will you come to the wedding?” he asks.

“If I’m around,” she evades.

He knows that means no.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she tells him in parting.

. . .

He knew that she would settle down eventually. Meet her _one_. He didn’t expect it would be with New York royalty. He finds out through Page Six, when Taylor gasps and thrusts the iPad in front him.

“He’s a van der Bilt,” she gushes. “Technically an Archibald but really who cares.”

Ryan observes the photo with an incredulous stare. It’s a grainy picture outside JFK. He’s all golden hair and a golden smile, and she’s never been anything less. The sparkling diamond on her finger is unmissable.

The headline reads, _New York’s most eligible bachelor is gone_. 

It’s the match of Julie Cooper’s dream.

.

“Who is he?” he asks Summer.

“Why are you asking me?” she shoots back.

“Because,” he replies with a shrug.

“I thought you guys talk.”

“We do, sometimes, but never about that part of our lives.”

“Maybe you should,” Summer says with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan waves his hand. “Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to ask Seth?”

Summer crosses her arms and gives him the same look she gives her two year old.

“His name’s Nate. They met at a party through a mutual friend. And she says she’s very happy.”

“Page Six already told me that,” he scowls.

Summer rolls her eyes, “If you want more, then ask her yourself.”

.

Marissa calls him before he can call her. She laughs apologetically, tells him she wishes she could have told him the news herself. But it was so sudden, so quick and she can never keep up with the tabloids.

She tells him Nate’s a _good_ guy. He proposed to her in the French Alps, a nod to the place where they shared their first kiss. On the foothills of Mont Blanc, he got down on one knee and asked her the question. She told him yes on the spot.

It was a long time coming, she says wistfully and he wonders why this is the first he’s ever hearing of him. Still, he tells her congratulations.

. . .

Taylor asks him for a favour. Technically it’s a favour for Marissa. There’s a job opening in Congressman Tripp van der Bilt’s office for an Assistant Chief of Staff. She’s been trying so hard to find a foothold in Washington -- it’s the perfect opportunity for her. 

“What does Marissa have to do with this?” Ryan asks.

“Well Nate’s his cousin,” she states pensively. “Obviously, I would never expect any special favours. But it wouldn’t hurt to speak to Nate, find out a bit more about the Congressman.”

“Taylor, I barely know this guy,” Ryan huffs and grumbles.

“But you know Marissa and he’s her fiancé.”

“Why do you need me? You know Marissa too,” Ryan points out.

“Oh c’mon Ryan. Marissa and I are acquaintances at best. We’re friends of friends. It has to come from you.”

“You know I hate this kind of thing,” Ryan complains.

“Please, please, please, for me,” Taylor begs. She wraps her hands around his neck, and pouts at him. “This is how politics works. She won’t think anything of it.”

.

Taylor had been right. Marissa thinks nothing of it. She laughs knowingly and says of course, she will speak to Nate. She calls him back the next morning and asks for Taylor’s number so that Nate can call her.

Taylor squeals and tells him he's the best husband ever. Ryan can only smile back to hide his discomfort.

.

The night before Taylor flies to Washington for her interview, Ryan asks her what happens if she gets the job. Do they move to Washington? Do they do long distance? Taylor waves his worries away and tells him they will figure it all out. She doesn’t even have the job yet.

He lets it go because he can see she’s stressed and her mind’s elsewhere. Still he worries. He can already feel their happy balance in California slip away.

Taylor calls him from the airport on her way back.

“I got the job!” she screams into the phone.

.

Taylor tells him about her ten-year plan for them. They will move out to New York. She will split her time between there and Washington, just like the Congressman. There are so many architecture firms in New York. Prestigious firms with a history that LA can never offer. This is an opportunity for him too. Over the next five years, she’ll progress to Chief of Staff, maybe in a Senator’s office. In ten year’s time, it could be the Presidential office, she says in a hushed tone. Meanwhile he’ll make partner. He could even have a building on the New York skyline. How incredible would that be?

Ryan listens in quiet silence, her optimism chipping away at his pessimism.

“We’re happy here,” he tells her simply.

“We could be happier,” Taylor replies.

. . .

He quits his job, they move to New York and Taylor starts her new one. They rent a two-bedroom in Manhattan on Taylor’s insistence. He had wanted something cheaper, something further out of the city, but Taylor told him not to worry. She’s got her inheritance and she’s earning enough to support the both of them.

. . .

Taylor invites Marissa and Nate for dinner. It’s a thank you, she tells him and sends him on a tour of Manhattan to purchase the best ingredients. She’s making her French highlights. Pissaladière to start, followed by Duck a l'Orange and her famous peach torte for dessert. Ryan warns her she doesn’t need to try so hard. To which she answers, it wouldn’t be a thank you dinner if it wasn’t special.

It’s the second time he’s seeing Marissa since his engagement party. They’ve spoken a few times but he still wonders whether it might be awkward. He feels awkward at the prospect of meeting Nate, her soon-to-be husband.

They arrive half an hour late, bearing flowers and a bottle of champagne.

“Sorry, there was traffic,” Marissa apologises as she goes to hug him.

“You’ve never needed an excuse to be late,” he jokes. Marissa shoves his chest in mock offense.

“So I’m not the only one who’s been kept waiting,” Nate grins, taking off his jacket and wrapping an arm around Marissa.

Ryan smiles politely and offers to take their coats.

. 

He sits outside on the fire escape with Marissa, sharing cigarettes in lieu of an aperitif. Taylor doesn’t smoke and Nate was, in his own words, strictly pot.

“Dinner was very nice,” she tells him as an ice breaker.

“It’s all Taylor,” he says.

“There was no need to do so much.”

“I know,” he replies with a knowing smile. Ryan taps his cigarette on the metal railing and watches Marissa take a drag of hers.

“So what do you think?” she asks him expectantly.

“About Nate?” he checks and she raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Didn’t know my opinion mattered so much.”

“You’re a good judge of character.”

“He seems nice,” he answers honestly. “You never mentioned him before.”

“We were,” she searches for the right word, “ _casual_ for the longest time. It wasn’t worth mentioning.”

“What changed?”

“It was time to be serious.”

. . .

Taylor adapts to their new life with ease. After all, it is the life she chose. She loves the job, loves New York, even loves the days spent in Washington. She’s out more often than she is home. The apartment feels like a vacuum to Ryan. An abundance of absence.

He searches for a job but finds New York a harder fit than he imagined. He loses count of the number of times HR have told him, he’s just not the _right match_.

Taylor feels guilty and he tries to tell her he’s not resentful - just frustrated. She misunderstands and the next thing he knows, she’s arranging for him to have lunch with the father of a friend of a friend from work. He’s a senior partner at a very exclusive firm in the city.

“I didn't ask for your help, Taylor,” Ryan grumbles.

“I’m your wife. It’s my job to help you.”

Ryan shakes his head, “Not like this.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“I would rather work for what I have than have it handed to me,” he snaps.

At that Taylor bristles. “Unlike me,” she bites out.

“No, that’s not what--”

“Don’t bother,” she stops him sharply, walking towards their bedroom and slamming the door shut.

.

In the morning he apologies and she admits she overreacted. He promises to take the lunch meeting and they kiss and make up. After she heads to work, he sighs and reluctantly gets out his best suit.

The lunch goes fine even though he feels inadequate in the arcane private club. But they find common ground over soccer and a passion for Baroque architecture. Afterwards, he walks to Marissa’s apartment for coffee. It’s become something of a post-interview ritual.

“How was it?” she asks.

“Who knows.”

“You’re going to find something. They’re crazy not to want you,” she says earnestly.

“I don’t even know if I want it,” he admits. “I used to feel a little out of place back in LA. Here it’s like that same feeling but ten-fold. Everyone went to Harvard or Yale or Princeton. Boarding schools in New Hampshire. They’re not lying when they say I don’t fit in.”

“You didn’t let that stop you in Newport.”

“I think I just got really lucky with you and Seth and Summer.”

Marissa laughs and squeezes his arm affectionately.

“It will work out,” she promises.

.

Marissa calls him later that evening saying she might have the perfect job for him.

“Look, Marissa, I appreciate it but I don’t need any more introductions,” he starts to say, already feeling the frustration from his fight with Taylor.

“Relax, it’s not like that,” she assures him. “Andre’s a community organiser. I did a profile on him last month, and he told me about a project he’s set-up in Queens. They have these huge old warehouses they’re planning to refurb into community centres. He was looking for an architect at the time, said he couldn’t find anyone they could afford.”

He thinks the proposition over - it’s enticing.

“You think he’s still looking.”

“I’ve got his number. Why don’t you call him and find out?”

. . .

Ryan takes the job in Queens and the pay cut that comes with it. Taylor’s puzzled at the choice, especially when the partner at the bigger firm invites him for an interview. But she sees his obvious happiness and decides to let it go.

Life feels less adrift with a job to keep him motivated. But in the evenings when Taylor’s stuck at work or away on business trips, the loneliness still lingers.

Marissa senses it and insists he come over for dinner. He claims there’s no need.

He still shows up every night she asks.

. 

Nate’s home more than he expects him to be. He’s running a newspaper and somehow has more free time than an assistant chief of staff. When he mentions this Nate once, Nate laughingly tells him, _you gotta prioritise_. Ryan figures there are different rules for the ultra-rich.

It’s an adjustment at first, seeing Nate and Marissa so up close. The way Nate always greets her with a kiss on the cheek, the ease with which his arms circle her waist and spin her around when he’s feeling playful, or how every time she teases him, she absent-mindedly reaches for the back of his head.

She spots Ryan staring at them once when Nate insists her macaroni and cheese is the best he’s ever had.

“What?” she asks Ryan.

“It’s nothing,” he assures her.

She rolls her eyes at him because it’s so very Ryan to not share. He can’t tell her that he’s thinking this could have been _them_.

. . .

Marissa introduces him to Dan because she says he needs more friends.

“I do not.”

“You’ll like Dan,” she promises. 

Ryan learns he is a friend of Marissa’s from NYU, and a friend of Nate’s from school. In fact, Dan is how Marissa and Nate met.

. . .

Dan takes him to a baseball batting cage.

“It’s good for blowing off steam. Letting go of anger,” he explains.

“Did Marissa say I was angry?”

“Oh no. But I might be.” 

Dan takes a long, hard swing at the hurtling ball.

“What are you angry about?”

“Good question,” Dan lets out a dry laugh. “It’s a long story. So long that I wrote a book about it.”

.

After, they go to a dive bar in Brooklyn. The floor feels sticky, there’s a football game blasting on the TV screens, and it's the cheapest prices he’s seen for beer in the three months he’s been in New York.

“You’ve got to leave the Upper East Side for the real New York,” Dan tells him with a wink.

.

At some time around 8, Dan’s wife, Serena, joins them.

“He’s Marissa’s friend, technically ex, but what’s the difference,” Dan stumbles over his words slightly, feeling the effect of three gin and tonics. “He’s fresh from California.”

Serena greets him with a hug even though they’ve only just met.

“I love California,” she says with a massive, warm smile. 

“Me too,” Ryan agrees.

Marissa had mentioned Serena to him in passing. Blonde, beautiful and a personality which could fill any room. Ryan certainly feels her charm when she promises to indoctrinate him in all that New York has to offer.

. 

A round of shots later, Serena pouts at Dan and asks why Nate isn’t here. Dan rolls his eyes and tells her she’ll call them. An hour later, Nate’s walking in with Marissa close behind.

Ryan watches as Serena leaps from her chair and throws her arms around Nate.

“Natey, you came,” she squeals, a few shots worse off.

Nate laughs and hugs her tightly, “Of course, I came.”

There’s an intense familiarity between them which throws him. Dan and Marissa don’t seem to blink an eye.

“Hey,” Marissa greets him with a big smile.

“Hello to me too,” Dan snarks from the side.

.

Serena drags them to a nightclub with brighter lights and louder music.

“Friday nights are for dancing,” she declares proudly.

“Anything you say S,” Nate agrees with a grin. Ryan watches as Serena leads Dan to the dance floor, with Nate and Marissa behind them, hand-in-hand. The boys spin the girls around and they giggle in unison.

He decides he needs a smoke.

. 

Dan comes outside and asks to steal a cigarette.

“Marissa’s looking for you,” Dan informs him.

“Why?”

“Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

Ryan laughs, “I'm fine.”

“Maybe it’s for her benefit,” Dan tells him with a sly grin.

“What does that mean?”

Dan doesn’t bother explaining himself, just pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m gonna find something to eat,” he says and leaves.

.

When Ryan goes back inside, Marissa spots him in an instant. He feels her hands on his arm, and her breath hot on his ear.

“You’re going to dance,” she announces to him.

“What about Nate?” he asks.

“Nate’s got his hands full,” she tells him, motioning to the giggling blonde pair at the other end of the bar, looking distinctly drunk and a little high.

He wants to ask her what the hell is going on there. Why doesn’t she seem to care? But they can barely hear each other over all the music. The last audible thing he hears is her begging him, _dance with me_.

_Okay, okay,_ he finally relents.

He tries to remember the last time they’ve been so close together. The dance floor is packed, jostling them closer still, even as he tries to keep a respectful distance. His hands fall to her waist to steady them and Marissa swings her arms around his neck to find balance. 

In the darkness, he finds it hard to read her. But for a moment their eyes connect and the lights flash red across their faces. It’s an intoxicating feeling. And finally being face to face, he realises she’s more sober than he anticipated.

.

When Ryan comes home, he finds Taylor still awake.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he says.

Taylor yawns, “I wasn’t. I just got back an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

He starts to undress and she turns off the bedside light.

“Where did you go?”

“Some bar, well, nightclub in Brooklyn. Not my pick.”

Taylor hums, thinking his answer over.

“You were out late,” she comments.

“Mmm, yeah,” Ryan replies sleepily. He gets into bed and wraps his arm around her.

“It’s unlike you.”

“I made an exception.”

“For Marissa,” Taylor cuts in before she can stop herself.

“What? No.”

Taylor lets out an indignant huff.

“It’s not like that, Taylor.”

“It’s late, forget I said anything.”

Ryan sighs and turns on to his back. He shuts his eyes because it’s easier than having a fight at 3am.

In the morning, neither chooses to bring it up.

. . .

  
  


Marissa becomes an unspoken chasm in their relationship. In a way, she always has been. But it was benign when they lived hundreds of miles apart. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s harder to ignore when she’s two blocks away.

The first rupture happens over dinner with the two couples. He thinks it's good for Taylor to finally meet everyone. He hopes it will help her see the reality of his friendship with Marissa.

The evening starts pleasantly enough. Nate asks Taylor about how her job is going, and they trade stories about Tripp. Serena gives Taylor a curious look when she hears she’s working for Tripp.

“You know I worked for him once,” Serena tells her. Ryan notices how Nate’s eyes dim, and so does Serena. Her smile fades away, “It was a long time ago.”

Dan observes the conversation with a bored look. He excuses himself to see if Marissa needs help in the kitchen. Ryan watches them talk in hushed tones.

. 

Serena opens a third bottle of wine before they’re even finished with their mains.

“So, how did the two of you get together?” she asks Ryan and Taylor, taking an indulgent sip of her wine. “Or in fact,” her eyes sway from Ryan to Marissa, “how did you two?”

Ryan laughs awkwardly, “It’s a long story.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“We’ve got the time. And everyone’s heard all about ours, haven’t they Dan?”

Dan responds to Serena’s deathly sweetness with steely iciness.

“I write _fiction_ ,” he asserts.

“Well Dan’s been having trouble finding inspiration. Maybe you can help him,” she tells Ryan.

“It’s really not that interesting.”

“That’s exactly what people say when it is,” Serena taunts back.

“Well, Ryan and I are, were, a lot like you and Dan,” Marissa volunteers in an effort to save Ryan.

“Really?” Serena’s eyes sparkle.

“We met in our sophomore year, dated on and off for about two years in high school.”

“She was actually the first person I met in town when I moved there,” Ryan mentions, a small smile slipping away.

“And was it love at first sight?” Serena probes.

Ryan laughs nervously, his eyes flickering to Marissa.

“We don’t all fall as fast as Dan,” she replies coolly. Dan offers a wry smile and raises his glass in acknowledgement.

“I never knew that’s how you met,” Taylor says to him. Ryan shifts in his chair, unsure of how to respond

“How did the two of you meet?” Nate asks innocently.

“We all went to the same school. But Ryan and I didn’t start dating until after college,” Taylor answers. “He bailed me out of this fiasco with a French ex-husband.”

“French ex-husband? I thought you said your stories weren’t interesting,” Serena teases Ryan.

“He’s always so modest,” Taylor tells them with a dramatic eye roll. “He was my knight in shining armour. I fell for him on the spot.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Dan muses.

“On that note, I think it’s time for desert,” Marissa announces. 

“Hey, I thought you guys dated in college as well,” Nate asks Marissa absent mindedly, as she hands him a plate of tiramisu. 

“We definitely didn’t date in college, she was at NYU, I was at Berkeley.”

“No, um,” Nate searches his memory

“Nate--” Marissa tries to interrupt.

“In London, I thought you had a thing,” he says, giving Marissa a confused look.

“You had a _thing_ in London,” Taylor repeats, her expression aghast and silent fury brimming.

_Fuck_ , Ryan thinks. All eyes are pinned on him. 

“It wasn’t a thing as such,” he says, giving Marissa a pleading look.

“You know how it is,” Marissa swirls her wine glass and gives the room a coy look, “Everyone has their moments.”

Serena laughs, “We’ve all been there.”

“Sometimes too often,” Nate comments quietly, a pensive look in his eyes.

“Aren’t we an incestuous bunch?” Dan remarks.

“It’s a shame we’re missing, Blair,” Serena bites back with saccharine sarcasm.

Ryan observes the scene and feels a headache come on. Across the table from him, the exhaustion on Marissa’s face matches his own.

.

“What happened in London?” Taylor pounces at him the minute they get back home.

Ryan sighs, burrowing his head in his hands. 

“We hooked up a few times, that’s all.”

“How many times?”

“I didn’t exactly keep count.”

“Right, so you only hooked up a few times but you can’t remember how many times? Fucking fantastic Ryan.”

“We were broken up at the time Taylor. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why the fuck have you never told me about this before.”

“I, I don’t know. I didn’t want it to be an issue I guess. Not when it was so…”

“Meaningless?”

Ryan goes silent, looking uncomfortably back.

“God, you can’t even lie and tell me the sex was meaningless. You couldn’t possibly beseech Marissa Cooper’s honour like that.”

“This isn’t worth fighting over. It happened so long ago, and whatever it meant then, it doesn’t matter now. I’m with you.”

Taylor sighs and brushes away her tears.

“You make it so hard sometimes.”

.

“How bad was it?” Marissa asks him over the phone.

“Bad,” he answers and puts the cigarette to his lips.

“I would apologise but I’m not sure what exactly we did wrong.”

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

“You were broken up right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan replies, resting his head on the fire escape wall.

“What’s the issue?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?”

“She doesn’t trust you. Doesn’t trust me around you.”

“I’m not going to _seduce_ you.”

“I know that,” he says softly and he hears the frustration in her voice. “It will blow over.”

“I’m sorry about last night. It all got...a little out of control.”

“What’s happening between Dan and Serena?”

“Don’t ask. It might be more complicated than whatever is happening with _us_.”

“And Nate?”

Marissa laughs, “It feels ominously fine.”

. . .

Ryan bumps into Serena at a bakery in Queens of all places. She claims to be doing a photoshoot in the area, for New York’s “most underrated designer”.

“I’m sorry about the party. I should have stopped on my third glass of Bordeaux. I was drunk, and I feel like I might have crossed a line,” she says, sounding actually sincere.

“It’s ok. You’re not the one who,” Ryan pauses, “ _embellished_ the truth.”

“I’m still sorry. I was offloading my frustrations with Dan on to everybody else.”

“Everything okay?”

Serena smiles at the question.

“Have you ever felt like someone’s second choice?” she asks, a remorseful lilt to her voice.

“Sometimes.”

“It’s not a great feeling.”

. . .

Ryan sits on Marissa’s couch sharing cartons of Chinese takeout. Taylor’s in Washington for the weekend and Nate’s at a company retreat in Vermont.

“Does Nate mind us hanging out?” he asks.

“Nah, he’s a pretty chilled out guy.”

Ryan leans back on the couch, “I guess that’s the confidence that comes from always getting what you want.”

Marissa laughs, “I turned him down the first time he asked me out.”

“Really?”

“It was way back in college. I think I thought he was too young then, and I found him far too emotionally well-adjusted to be interesting.”

Ryan laughs, “What changed?”

“I got older, and I started finding men who had their shit together attractive.”

“Ouch.”

“Not _you_. But like half the guys I dated.”

“Is that why you like him?” Ryan finds he can’t bring himself to say _love_.

“We started hanging out after I got back from London. He was sweet, and thoughtful. We were going through something similar at the time -- it was like it all clicked into place.”

“I would have never pictured you with him,” he admits quietly.

“Me neither,” she agrees. “To be honest, I don’t think Nate ever saw himself with me either.”

“Why do you say that?”

Marissa shakes her head, and turns on the couch to face Ryan, resting her head on the cushions.

“Just a feeling I have,” she murmurs.

“Him and Serena seem close,” Ryan comments slowly.

“They are. They practically grew up together”

“Does that bother you?”

Marissa shakes her head, “No. I trust him.”

“That’s good.”

“Is Taylor still upset?”

“A little.”

“If you want, I can stay away.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Ryan shakes his head. He drops his voice to barely above a whisper.

“Between us, I never wanted to move to New York. If it wasn’t for you, I think I might have hated it here.”

Marissa smiles, “That’s not true. You love the fresh bagels. You’re passionate about your new job. You say you hate the crowds, but I bet there’s a part of you which likes the anonymity that comes with it. The fact that no one knows you as the boy who once burnt down Caleb Nichol’s mansion.”

Ryan laughs, and looks at her gratefully, “You’re still the best part.”

“Since when did you get so sentimental.”

“I’ve always been sentimental around you,” he quips before he can stop himself. Guilt touches for a second but then Marissa’s laughing and giving him a smile, so like the first time he saw her. Like he still has it in him to surprise her. And really it makes no sense, but there’s a strange way in which being around her has always made him feel complete.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you came to New York,” she tells him with a glimmer in her eye.

. . .

Taylor and Ryan go back to Newport for Christmas. Marissa stays in New York with Nate. He thinks the temporary distance might help their marriage. Taylor seems relaxed on the flight. He takes her hand, and presses a kiss against it. He tells her he knows they have had a tough year, but they have just got to work through it. Taylor smiles and kisses him back in answer.

.

He confides to Sandy about their marital problems over beers at the golf club. He started playing when he discovered the partners at his old firm all spent their spare time on the golf course. Without sleazy best friends at the back of his mind, he found it quite therapeutic.

“Marriage is tough, kid,” Sandy tells him sympathetically. “And you both started new jobs in a new city. It was always going to be an adjustment.”

“She doesn’t trust me,” Ryan says with a sigh, swinging his golf club hard.

“Have you given her a reason not to?”

“No, Marissa and I, we’re just friends.”

“Ah, you and Marissa Cooper.”

“Not you as well.”

Sandy holds his hands up in protest.

“I’m just saying, the two of you, with all your history, you gotta understand where Taylor’s coming from.”

“Sandy, I would never cheat, and nor would Marissa.”

“Sometimes being unfaithful is about more than just sex. It’s something deeper.”

Ryan thinks about what Sandy’s saying.

“I’m not in love with Marissa,” he says, swallowing. He thinks to himself, surely he can’t be.

Sandy gives him a serious look, and he can’t tell if he believes him or not.

“Good, then make sure your wife knows it.”

.

The peace that him and Taylor manage to rebuild between them shatters on Boxing Day. He comes back from sailing with Seth and gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. Taylor’s sitting on the poolhouse bed with a cardboard box in front of her. 

“Explain this,” she demands, picking up what looks like a photo album and hurtling it in his direction.

“Woah, what the fuck Taylor?”

“Explain it.”

He picks up the fallen photo album and the feeling of anxiety in his stomach doubles over. There’s photo after photo of him and Marissa. Not all of them alone, but probably too many for Taylor’s liking. Most of them are not even obviously romantic. His eyes settle on one of them on a boat, his arm tightly around her, lips pressed against her cheek.

“They’re from London,” he tells Taylor.

“I figured.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “This was a long time ago.”

“Why did you lie? You told me, it was nothing. Just a few hookups.”

“I didn’t lie. I was in London for nine months. We were only really dating for maybe four, five months at most.”

“It’s not how long that matters.”

“Why does any of this matter? It was five year ago.”

“Because the first time we broke up, it was about Marissa. You didn’t want to commit, and I know you’ll deny it, say I’m being crazy, but it _was_ because of her. You were still holding out hope. And then you went to London, and I don’t know what happened between the two of you, if she tossed you aside like she always did once she got bored. But you came back, and you chose me, and now I don’t know if you ever really wanted me at all.”

“Taylor, I never -- it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Yes, there was a time when I really loved Marissa. But that doesn’t have to mean that I didn’t love you too, because I did. I married you, I chose you because I love you. You have to let go of the past.”

She looks back at him with open skepticism.

“Your past lives two blocks away from us. You spend every other night with her. You trust her, you confide in her. When I try to help you, you resent me for it. When she does it, she’s a fucking saint.”

“When have I ever--”

“I tried to help you get a job and you said it was inappropriate. Then you go and take the job she hands you.”

“She just passed on a name and number.”

“And I just arranged a lunch!”

“What do you want from me Taylor? I’ve told you so many times nothing is going on. You seem incapable of trusting me. And if you haven’t noticed, she’s getting married too.”

“Oh please, her and Nate, it’s a marriage of convenience. Tripp told me Nate’s only ever been in love with one person. And for once, it’s not Marissa.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He loves Serena. Apparently, he always has, always will. And before you feel sorry for Marissa, she doesn’t love him either. Anyone can see it.”

Ryan sighs, throws his hands up in the air.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Show me that you love me. Stop seeing her. Stop talking to her.”

“Fine,” he says resolutely. “I will.”

.

Ryan sits on the bed, flicking through the photos. They’re remnants of a forgotten past. At least one he tries not to remember. He’s never been one to think about the _maybes_ and _what could have been_. But sometimes, even he can’t help wondering.

There’s a photo of them at his 23rd birthday. They’re in what used to be Marissa’s kitchen, mid-laughter and huddled over the cake she baked. He struggles to even remember if they were friends at the time, or a couple, or something in between. But he does remember the night. Them and a small group of friends, sitting out on the rooftop and smoking cigarettes. He remembers feeling happy and at ease and utterly fucking enchanted by Marissa Cooper.

He flips back to the front page and stares at the note on the inside cover.

_Whatever happens, we’ll always have London. Love, Marissa_ , it reads in her unmistakable loopy handwriting. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be Dan.


End file.
